Closing Circle
by Lakritzwolf
Summary: One-shot written for the anniversary of Generations II – Birds of prey. If you haven’t read Generations II, you will have no clue what this is about. If you have, then you’ll hopefully enjoy this one!


**Author's note:**

This is a little one-shot written for no other reason than the anniversary of my story Generations II – Birds of prey.  
Setting: about twenty years after Imogen and Lucas have returned to Holland. So if you haven't read Generations II, you will have no clue what this is about.  
If you have, then you'll hopefully enjoy it!

* * *

Imogen found Lucas in the upstairs sitting room, standing by the window and watching the people walking around the garden. He acknowledged her presence with a smile and continued his vigil, even as Imogen stepped beside him and laid a hand on his arm. Something in his eyes had slightly disturbed her.

"Lucas? Is everything all right?"  
"Of course." He smiled down at her again, and his smile was genuine this time, easing her worries. "I was just watching all these ladies arriving for the ball and realised that it makes a man feel old, seeing his oldest son prepare to marry."  
"I see." Imogen stood a little closer to him and he placed a hand on hers that was still resting on his arm. "If it is any comfort to you, you don't look old, at all."  
Lucas chuckled softly under his breath. "I don't?"  
She shook her head as he smiled down at her again. "No. The men of the van Huuiten family seem to age very gracefully."

Which was true, at that. Until very shortly before his death, Cornelius van Huuiten had certainly not looked the more than seventy years of age he had been, and Lucas still bore hardly any wrinkles, apart from a few fine lines around his eyes. Even his hair had hardly changed; due to the light, pale colour it had had to begin with, it had only changed from pale ivory to a fine silvery sheen.

Imogen's hair, on the other hand, had changed from ebony to a rather bright mixture of dark and grey and white, as unruly as her curls were, as unruly had they begun to change colour. Yet Lucas took such delight in this that he had asked her not to dye her hair, as so many ladies did, and she had done him the favour and let her hair show her age, yet another thing to make some of the ladies give her the odd look every now and then.  
She had gotten used to it over the years and was no longer bothered about that any more.

"Gracefully?", Lucas asked and Imogen nodded and smiled.  
"Without the wrinkles and the grey hair."  
"Which maybe has to do with the fact that my hair was more or less that colour to begin with."  
Imogen had to smile. "Maybe. Still, you don't look your age. It amazes me again and again. And I have heard a few people say that you could truly be Ruben's elder brother rather than his father."  
"Well, I shall take that as a compliment." He then turned away from the window. "I think it is time to greet the guests." Then he offered Imogen his arm and they made their way downstairs to greet the guests for the spring ball, organized as a "marriage fair", as Imogen had secretly called it, to find a suitable lady as a future wife for the young Duke of Ijssel, Ruben Cornelius van Huuiten.

Imogen danced with a few dreadful old aristocrats and retired admirals, Lucas in turn did so with their respective wives. Yet it was clear from the beginning that the most favourable match was the youngest daughter of van Almendijk, the Duke of Rotterdam, a charming lady despite a mother who was, according to the gossip, a force to be reckoned with. Yet the Duke himself was liked well enough, and his estates almost matched the ones of the Duke of Ijssel. A smart match, that was what everyone said.

And yet, Imogen did not fail to notice that Ruben himself danced only once with Hendrika Mechteld van Almendijk and at least thrice with another girl whose name she didn't know. Between two dances, she finally managed to catch up with Lucas to ask him if he knew her. He did.

"This is Myrte Viona Govinden. Her father is a spice merchant who made it into society through merit and success in the trades. He started his career as a captain of one ship twenty years ago, nowadays he owns a fleet of seven and two estates. Yet some people do not forgive him his birth, for his father was only a cloth merchant himself."  
"Yet Ruben seems to be rather smitten with her", Imogen said softly, watching her stepson dance with the girl who, admittedly, was rather an eye catcher. Her heart shaped face was framed with golden curls the colour of ripe wheat, and her green eyes sparkled with life whenever she smiled. And she smiled rather a lot, as long as she danced with the young Duke of Ijssel.

"I see that", Lucas replied and Imogen did not fail to notice the rather thoughtful tone of voice.

**x x x x x x x x x**

It was late in the night, almost early in the morning, when the last guests had either retired or taken their coaches home and Imogen watched the last of those round the corner of the drive and vanish in the cool April night. Two figures were walking away from the gates, towards the park behind the west wing, and as they passed the window she was standing at, she recognised Lucas and Ruben, heads bend in conversation. She could not hear them, but she had a vague idea what the two might be talking about.

"I am not quite sure, father", Ruben said in answer to his father's question if there was maybe a suitable lady among the ones he had danced with. "I danced with a lot of charming young ladies, and to be frank, with a few who were not charming at all." He smiled wryly and found his father return the smile in the same way.  
"And what about the charming ones?"  
Ruben shrugged. "Mademoiselle van Almendijk is a smart match, for sure. Rotterdam has made it very clear that the possible marriage could well triple the wealth of both Dukedoms." He shrugged again.  
"Yet you do not seem very convinced that this would be the right choice."  
Ruben looked at his father again, a slightly pained expression on his face, and shrugged a third time.

"I take it there is another lady that charmed you rather more than the daughter of Rotterdam."  
Ruben pressed his lips together and folded his hands behind his back.  
Lucas halted his steps as he watched his son, recognising all too well the gesture he himself used often enough. Like father, like son, he thought, and knew the moment had arrived he had imagined, on a rainy Caribbean night, almost five and twenty years ago now.

"Ruben", he said and laid a hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "If you can bear with your old father's ramblings, then I shall tell you a little story."  
Ruben lifted his eyebrows and straightened up, but nodded.

"There was a young man once", Lucas began, a faint smile on his lips. "He was in love with a woman in his service who returned this love. Yet status and rank was between them, and they both knew it could never be. Or so they thought. They held on to the affair, keeping it secret, or trying to, and tried not to think about the future. Yet one day, the man was confronted with an order from his king: He had been chosen to marry a lady to forge an alliance that the king needed to win a war. So what was he to do? Do his duty and follow the orders of his king, or listen to his heart and openly stand to the woman he loved?"  
Ruben slowly tilted his head. "What did he do?", he asked, because he felt his father wanted him to ask.

"He did his duty, Ruben. He gave up the woman he loved and married. He cut his heart out, but he did his duty."  
"And his woman?"  
"She accepted his choice, or rather, agreed with him that there was no choice. She was, after all, of too low a birth, only in his service, so what was there they could do? They both believed that there was never a choice."  
"Sometimes, there is no choice, father."

Lucas looked at his son very intently. "And sometimes, there is, although the choice requires more bravery and strength than a man or woman can summon." He took a deep breath. "They were torn apart, for more than two years, almost three. The lady the man had married had died."  
"So they found each other again?"  
"In a rather strange way."  
"Father?" Ruben wrinkled his forehead and Lucas chuckled.

"My son, in his foolishness, the young man had promised the woman he loved to marry her when the stars would shine at noon, believing that then, when the sun has vanished from the face of the earth, and the last of days has come, he could be with her for eternity. Who cares for birth and rank when the end of the world has come?"  
"So?"  
"So the man, after his lady had died, long after she had died, for he had made sure to mourn her as is behoving, wanted to talk to his love again, to see if there was another chance for their love."  
"And was there?" Ruben seemed to be fascinated despite himself, he was no notorious romantic, just like his father, but was captured, nonetheless. He had never heard his father talk like this before.

"The sun vanished from the sky that day, my son. A total eclipse of the sun, and as the church clock struck noon, the evening star appeared in the dark skies above them. And he knew that the time of his promise had come, and they made their way to the church and got married, for the priest himself agreed that this could be nothing else than god's will for him to fulfil said promise."  
Ruben snorted. "It could have been chance."  
"Sure." Lucas smiled faintly. "Sure, it could have been chance."

His son took a deep breath. "Why are you telling me this, father?"  
"To make you think about what else there lies before you. Because I can see you think about your duty. But I also saw you dance with the daughter of Rotterdam, as well as with another charming young lady of a much lower birth." He cast his son a look and was sure, even in the dim light of torches in the nightly garden, that Ruben blushed. "I cannot make your choices. I cannot lead your life. But I can say this to you, Ruben: There will come a day when you will have to decide between the path of duty and the call of our heart. And when that day comes, think well, and think hard, my son. Not doing your duty can kill your reputation. Not following the call of your heart, Ruben, can kill your soul."

For a long while, Ruben just stared straight ahead, his lips pressed tightly together. "I do not quite understand the connection between this and the story, father", he finally said.  
"That man I was talking about has been granted a second chance at love, my son." Lucas put an arm around Ruben's shoulder and led him back to the house. "But chances like these are rare. And he has been thinking ever since that maybe, there had been a choice. That there always is a choice. If you dare to make it. As I said before, I cannot make your choices. But I can assure you that however your own choice, I will stand behind you, as does your mother.  
Ruben very slowly lifted his head and looked at his father, narrowing his eyes. "I see", he said with a thoughtful frown. "Thank you."  
Lucas nodded and let go of him, and they parted in the hallway.

Yet before Lucas had reached the door of the room he and Imogen occupied when staying as guests in his son's house, Ruben caught up with him again.

"Father."  
"Yes?"  
"That man..."  
Lucas suppressed a smile. "What about him?"  
Ruben took a deep breath. "How long ago was that? Is he a happy man now?"  
"A long time ago, Ruben", Lucas said with a faint smile. "More than twenty years ago. And yes, he is a happy man."

They exchanged a long, silent glance.

"And his woman?"  
"What about her?"  
"What was her standing before they married?"

Lucas did not fail to notice that Ruben's eyes were fastened on his left hand, on his wedding ring, the skull cast in silver. "Do not believe every word of gossip you hear, my son", he said, and smiled as his son looked up with a frown. "But sometimes, the truth is more fantastic than anything anyone could make up in their wildest dreams", he added, and a corner of Ruben's mouth twitched.

"People might say that with a father like that, how could the son have any sense of propriety, or notions about a proper marriage", Ruben said after a while.  
"People will say a lot, completely disregarding that they know not half the facts they ought to know to build a decent opinion", Lucas gave back, still smiling faintly. "And still, the watchful eye of society only sees what it wants to see, no matter what else there is."  
Ruben nodded thoughtfully and was silent for a while.

"I would really like to ask that man something", he finally said, not looking at his father.  
"And what could you possibly want to ask a man such as him?"  
Ruben looked up. "How it feels carving out your own heart."  
Lucas took a deep breath and laid an arm around his son's shoulders. "It is nothing any man would wish for his own son, Ruben. Never would I have my son suffer like that, if I could avoid it."

He did not avoid Ruben's eyes, and for a long silent while, father and son looked at each other until finally, Ruben nodded. Lucas removed his arm and Ruben smiled faintly, giving his father a nod before he left him, silently and with a very thoughtful expression.

Lucas watched him go, and with a deep sigh, finally turned around to enter his bedroom.

Imogen, who had been standing silently beside the window all the time, had of course been unable not to overhear that last bit of conversation that had taken place outside the door, and when Lucas stepped in beside her, she silently closed her arms around him and they stood there for a while, holding on to each other, both lost in memories good and bad from times gone long by.

**x x x x x x x x x**

The young Duke of Ijssel's wedding day was celebrated in May, with blossoming apple and cherry trees dusting the gardens behind his estate in white and pink. His young bride, smiling and laughing happily, threw her bridal flowers into the crowd of maidens who had been attending her, and the guests chuckled, smiled, or even laughed, at the eagerness with which the bouquet was caught by one of the girls with a shriek of joy.

Not a smart match, said some of them, the elderly, and some widows with a strong sense of propriety.

Not a smart match, said some, but a beautiful couple, said others, and most could agree with them when watching the Duke of Ijssel with his newlywed wife, Myrte's golden curls carefully arranged and green eyes flashing with joy.

The celebration lasted three days, and when Imogen and Lucas arrived back home in Utrecht, they found a letter there waiting for them, a letter from Dublin.

In it, the merchant William Turner III happily announced the marriage of his eldest son Joshamee to Moiragh McKennan, daughter of a Glaswegian merchant. Joshamee and Moiragh Turner were about to establish a new home in Glasgow, and the enterprise that the merchant W. Turner had built up in Ireland after returning there with his wife from the Caribbean thirteen years ago now prospered and flourished. Imogen and Lucas returned the letter with lots of best withes and congratulations along with a few presents for his godson and his new wife.

Imogen and Lucas van Huuiten never saw their godson again face to face, yet were kept up to date of his affairs in letters that arrived regularly each year at Christmas time.

The last time Imogen ever shed a tear for the loss of her son was when one of the letters spoke of the first child, a grandchild she knew she would never see. But the years went by, and with her other children living close by, the grandchildren she and Lucas were blessed with brought joy to their elder days aplenty.

**x x x x x x x x x**

Joshamee Turner and his wife lived to the days of Thomas Telford, and their son spent his whole life shipping the great Caledonian Canal built by that great engineer. He moved north with his own family, and there I found his grave, on top of the Elysian hill of Tomnahurich, the old graveyard of Inverness.

"Here lies buried Steamship Captain Peter Turner", I read on the gravestone when I had climbed the steep hill up to the eldest part of the graveyard. "...who has shipped the Caledonian Canal for more than sixty years. Died in 1861."

**x x x x x x x x x**

The gravestone is really there. Strange, I thought when I found it, how fantasy and reality sometimes coincide. But maybe there is more to heaven and earth than meets the eye.


End file.
